


Chae ar' I'ear (Earth and Sea)

by Rakshi



Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 03:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rakshi/pseuds/Rakshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is leaving for the Grey Havens. But... there are those who don't want him to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chae ar' I'ear (Earth and Sea)

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel: [To The Distant Shore](http://archiveofourown.org/works/291238)

Sam walked across the field, his arms stretched out from his sides. Long shadows from the sun’s waning light flickered over the grasses and wildflowers where Sam strolled, his own shadow cast out in front of him. Sam chuckled at its size. "I've grown near as tall as an Elf, if this shadow is to be believed."

His walk was slower now. The smell of growing things would have slowed his step even when he was a young one in his tweens and able to step sprightly. But now, many years past his tweens, Sam's leisurely pace was by necessity rather than choice.

He felt the tops of the flowers and grasses caress his outstretched arms and hands and smiled. He knew them. All of them. These blossoms were the children of his labor and of his love. Their touch was a healing thing. They seemed to sing to him as he wandered amongst them and Sam nodded in gratitude.

Through his feet, Sam could feel the Earth, warm and solid; she supported him, seeming to make his path easier and smoother.

Sam smiled softly as he reached the edge of the field and knelt before a bank of flowers. His hand reached slowly toward a group of blue blossoms, gently caressing them with his fingers.

"Galadrig," he whispered softly. "Light entwined."

Many in the Shire and beyond believed that Sam's greatest life achievement, and the one in which he took the most pride, was the adventure he undertook with Frodo Baggins to destroy the One Ring of power. They would be much surprised to learn that for Sam, this undertaking, great though it may have been, was not the achievement he treasured most.

"Galadrig," Sam whispered again. "You who honor a'maelamin Iorhael." (You who honor my beloved Frodo)

Sam had bred this flower himself, and it, rather than the great quest, was the life achievement he treasured most. The dual blossom that tipped each long, intertwined stem was a pale blue at the center, so pale it was nearly white. It glowed, as though light radiated from within the blossom outward to the world.

The color grew in intensity as it moved toward the flower's edge, where it became a vibrant azure. No other blossom in the Shire could claim so rich a hue. "There's not your equal anywhere in Middle Earth," Sam murmured. Though, he thought with a deep sigh, it does exist in one other place.

He caressed the blossom, allowing memory to take his mind for a long moment. "My master's eyes are such a color," he said aloud, letting his fingertip stroke the blue of the flower's edge. "This is the color I sought when I struggled to create this beauty, and a struggle it was too."

"Me, of all folk in Middle-Earth," Sam mumbled, taking a seat on the ground next to the bank of flowers. "Thinkin' I could make a flower."

He laughed softly at his daring. "Sauce, I had," Sam said, nodding toward the flowerbed, "to do such a thing. But I stalked it like a Ranger hard after his quarry, and stars above, if I didn't finally stumble down the right path."

The Galadrig was a blending of a hardy winter crocus, the Saffron--which Sam loved for its ability to blossom even when snow blanketed the Shire--and the spring Starflower. These two plants, so different in nature, had at first refused Sam's attempts to fuse them into one completely new breed of flower.

But Sam was patient. Time and time again he gathered the seeds from his latest cross-pollination and tenderly cared for the seedlings that sprang from them, eventually even adding the very last grains of soil from the bit of earth given him by Galadriel.

Sam smiled at the thought. "Only dust it was by then," he said to the flowers. "Who would have thought it still had its ginger? But ginger it had, and plenty to spare seemingly, because finally… you grew." Sam looked down fondly on the blue blossoms. "And grew well too, I'll be bound. I'm not much of a one for magic," he admitted. "But magic this was, and no mistake."

The Galadrig was found everywhere within the boundaries of the Shire, and even in places beyond. Sam had carried seedlings from his hardiest Galadrig to Gondor itself in the year 22 when he visited the King. His own hand had planted his precious cargo in Aragorn and Arwen's flower beds, and to Sam’s immense delight, the King's last letter reported that the Galadrig was nearly as abundant in Minas Tirth as it was in Hobbiton.

"You love the mountains, don't you, my pretty?" Sam said quietly. The Galadrig was famous for growing even in the cracks between rocks, and was a favorite flower among Hobbiton residents who favored stone walls.

To Sam, it resembled stars reflected in water. It always put him in mind of the Sea, and of the one who waited.

He reached for his pipe, already filled with Old Toby, and lit it. I'm sure to get an earful for dawdling, Sam thought. Frodo-lad was waiting at Bag End to discuss the final details of Sam's trip. Sam was sure he also had a million nervous questions regarding his new role as "Gardner of the Hill.”

"He'll do fine," Sam said aloud. "But he'll have to ask about things he's known since he was a boy at my side, I'll warrant."

As Sam looked out over the field toward the setting sun, he thought he heard a voice calling out his name. He turned his head, looking for its source. ”Hoi!" Sam called. "Who is it who calls me, I wonder?"

He heard the voice again. "Father Sam!" it called. A note of urgency touched the voice, and Sam stood up, looking around hastily.

"Take care calling me 'Father,’" he said sharply. 'Don't be acting bigger than your britches. I know my own."

"Father Sam," the voice said again. "I am one of your own. Do you not know me? Your own hand planted me on the day your son Frodo was born. I am a part of your own Galadrig. I am the Starflower. Do not leave us, Father Sam, for we know such is your intent. Your love brought us to life. How shall we endure without you?"

Sam walked to where the Starflower grew and knelt beside it. "Well, now I've heard all there is to hear and back again," he muttered, staring down at the beautiful white blossoms. "When the flowers start in scolding me, I've truly taken leave of my senses."

"No, Father Sam," said the voice. "You have not taken leave. You've often heard our voices and thought it merely the wind or a tree frog singing. Please don't leave us, Father Sam. What shall we do without you to tend us?"

Sam shook his head, still not sure his ears weren't playing some impish trick on him. "How could you know that I'm near to the time of leaving? I've only just decided."

"We hear the thoughts of your heart," the flower said. "We've known for years that you longed to go to the one who waits, but did not because of the many blossoms that required your tending."

Sam nodded and huffed. "Many, indeed," he agreed. The voice was soft. It tickled his ear like the humming of a bee or the flutter of butterfly wings. Sam remembered Merry and Pippin speaking of the Ents, who seemingly talked just fine, and wondered if one of them, tricksters even in their dotage, had poured Ent draught onto his field.

"Why have you taken to talking to me now?" Sam asked. "Surely there's been a thing or two to say ere now, and yet not a peep from you."

Tree frog, indeed, Sam thought, half-irritably. About to go on the trip I've dreamed of these long years, and I turn ninnyhammer on the very eve of my leavin'.

Sam heard the sound of gentle laughter. "It is this leaving that has given us voices you can hear at long last, Father. You have not turned ninnyhammer, nor any other of the Gaffer's hard names."

Sam harrumphed, still irritated. "We shall see what we shall see," he said, still dubious. "And what would a flower have to say about such doings? You're wanting me to stay? Have I not cared for you long enough?"

He bent over the Starflower and looked hard at its petals, trying to discover how it talked. Seeing nothing new or unusual, he sighed. "Well I remember the day I planted you," he said, running his index finger up the blossom's stem. "My Frodo-lad had only just been born. A fine, healthy babe."

Sam fell silent and his head dropped. So unlike the one whose name he carries, he thought sadly, My master had the health fair torn from him by the evil that he destroyed. Not a day of peace did he have after that. Not a day free from pain. And me helpless to do a thing about it.

Sam looked at the white blossom and his eyes stung with tears. "I'm ashamed to tell it," he said. "But on the day I planted you, I wished him here to see his namesake. Even though in my heart I knew the pain would start in if he came again to these shores."

Sam bit his lip and sat down on the ground beside the flowerbed. For several long moments he smoked his pipe and thought. "Oh, I did wish him here," he whispered. "And not just to see the babe, I confess it. More to ease the pain in my own heart." He sighed and rose to his feet, turning toward the field again. "But the babe named for him has grown tall and strong, praise Eru. And that has brought me comfort."

"Father Sam," another voice cried. "Do you not remember me? You gave me to the Earth on the day you returned from the north country, from your visit with King Aragorn. I was a gift from his flowerbed because he knew you loved all growing things."

"Aye," Sam said quietly. "I remember well. You are the Uilos. The Evermind."

He shook his head and muttered to himself, "And just how does one address a flower? Sir or madam will not do, I reckon. Does a blossom even care for such nonsense? I never thought to wonder on such things."

He turned to the Uilos, which grew near the road. "And I suppose," Sam said mildly, "that you also want me to stay." He pondered his flowerbeds in some surprise. "I never thought to grow flowers with so many opinions and so unafraid to voice them."

"We do wish you to stay, Father," the Uilos replied. "We need you. You must know that none care for us the way you do."

"You think this, seemingly," Sam said. "And it's to be understood since you have but a flower's wit. But you're mistaken, my pretty." He looked down at the small white blossoms and shook his head, tapping his pipe against his hand to put it out. "You are the Evermind," he said quietly, remembering. "Story was, that you only grew on ground that covered the dead. But I knew better."

He carefully removed a few stray twigs and leaves from around the Uilos and tossed them aside. "I knew you'd grow anyplace where folks longed after one who was gone." Sam sighed and stood up, putting his pipe back into his pocket. "This is such a place," he murmured. "For I never stop longing for the one who is gone from me. Though it's been long years, still I yearn to hear his dear voice or see him smile at some foolishness I've said."

Sam quickly wiped his eyes. "And knowing this, you would wish me to stay?" he asked the flower.

"Oh, Sam, please stay with us!" cried a deeper voice, one that tingled through Sam's feet and took his breath. He wheeled and looked toward the hill, for he knew a voice this deep and rich could only come from one plant out of all the many he had established here. He gazed up at the great Mallorn tree. "Say there," he replied. "Have you now grown a voice too, like Old Man Willow?"

"A wizard's age different from Old Man Willow, am I," The Mallorn said, obviously irritated at the comparison. "This you know full well, Samwise Gamgee."

Sam smiled at this upstart, which he had carried from Lothlorien as a tiny seed. "Spare me your sauce, sir," he chided. "So far you have not taken to singing sleep songs, nor eating Shire folk. But you have taken to talking, which some might see as odd. And that's near enough to singing that you might seem to share a trait with that old fox from Tom Bombadil’s forest."

The ground under Sam's feet shook. Not violently. Not enough to toss Sam off his feet. But gently. He heard a low, feminine laugh. "Ah, Sam," the voice said. "Thou art dearest of all who tend me and mine. Heed yon Mallorn. Would thou leave these little ones with no caretaker?"

The voice shuddered through Sam's body, but in no way unpleasantly. More like a shiver from remembering happy times, or a sneeze when your nose itches, he thought. But the command in that voice was inescapable. Its silvery tones shook him to his core. He bowed uneasily, and looked down at the ground as if expecting it to open and swallow him.

"I know who you are, Lady," Sam whispered. “You are the great giver-of-life to all growing things. The Queen of the Earth. You’re Yavanna.”

"Yes," said the female voice. "Thou hast spent many long hours with thy hands touching my body. Like a lover, thou art. Thou and I together have brought forth many children. Would thou now leave these little ones?"

"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am," Sam said, blushing. "But I simply must go! I've given as much as I can. Now comes the time when Sam Gamgee must care for his own good, if you understand me."

Worried that he had upset the one to whom he spoke, Sam sank to the road next to the flowerbed. The twilight sun danced across the fields and flowers of Hobbiton, filling Sam's heart with wonder. "Oh, I do long to go," he breathed, spellbound by the beauty around him. "Yet it's hard to bear... thinkin' I'll not see this place again."

As Sam watched, a hush fell across the valley, and a new voice spoke. For a moment Sam could not understand what he was hearing. "Is it words you speak?" Sam asked. For this voice was not a sound Sam heard, but a feeling that flowed into him. He felt it tingle through his veins like a bubbling liquid. It brought an exhilaration that filled Sam with joy.

"And what are you, who feels lively like the thought of a great day coming?" Sam cried. "You are not plant or flower, I'll be bound."

"No," said the voice. "I am Ulmo. I am the Sea, thy bearer, Samwise. I await thy coming, but I am not the only one who does so. Another waits as well. Do not let these creatures of the Earth keep thee from thy journey.”

“Hark!” said Yavanna. “How dare you speak thus? Our Samwise heeds those who have been his friends for long years. Who art thou, a stranger to him, to reprove our words?”

Sam quietly chafed his hands and tried to become as small as possible, fearing to speak as these great beings conversed.

“Peace, Lady.” Ulmo spoke reverently. “Leave thy anger. I speak to his good. Thou art my sister. Believe that I would never speak words that harmed thee, nor any of thy children.”

Sam felt the tingle in his veins once again and lifted his head.

“Hear me, Samwise.” Ulmo spoke somewhat sadly. “The time of thy leave-taking has come. The one who waits also has need of thee. And he has stood long, alone by the shore."

Distraught, Sam gasped and leaped to his feet. Without conscious thought, he began to run in circles, looking desperately in all directions. "Master!" he cried, his arms outstretched. "Oh, speak to me, Master! It's your Sam here. Can’t you speak to me? If the trees and flowers have voice, can’t you speak as well? I can’t bear it that you stand alone by the shore."

"Sam," Ulmo whispered to him. "Hush and thou wilt hear thy Master."

Sam stopped his mad circling and stood near the flowers, his hands clasped together, pressed against his pounding heart. "Oh, my Master," he said softly, trying hard not to cry. "Oh, to hear your dear voice again."

"Hush," Ulmo said again. "I shall ask the wind to carry his voice to thee. It shall be faint, but thou wilt know him. Hush."

Sam held his breath and stood in absolute silence. A soft breeze stirred the flowers and grasses around him; Sam heard a distant voice that seemed to rise and fall with the gentle wind.

"Sam," the voice called, echoing upon the breeze. "My Samwise, do you come to me soon?"

"Master," Sam breathed, straining with every fiber of his being to hear the voice that flowed softly to him over the meadows.

"I wait here, Sam," the voice whispered. "I've waited so long for you. Do you come soon, my Sam?"

"Frodo," Sam choked, unable to stop the tears that flowed down his cheeks, for this was the voice of his beloved. "I come! I come with the next tide, and, oh, I would fly to you this minute were I able."

"Sam?" Frodo's voice called faintly. "Is that you, Sam? Do you come? I have despaired and nearly given up hope."

"No!" Sam cried. "Oh, don't give up. I come! Endure but a little longer, my beloved Master. You are called Bronwe Ethan Harthad, Endurance beyond Hope. Endure! For I am called Harthad Uluithiad, Hope Unquenchable, and I will light the fire of hope within you again."

"I will endure, Sam," the voice said, more faintly now. "But hurry. Come soon, Sam. I am so very lonely for you." Frodo’s words cut Sam's heart sorely. His voice was distant now, fading away on the receding breeze.

"I come! I come! Oh, Frodo, speak to me! Don't go. Stay with your Sam so I can hear your voice again."

"Sam," Ulmo whispered. "Let go for now, for thy Master's voice can no longer reach thee."

Sam sank back to the ground and pressed his face into his hands. "Oh, my Frodo, my treasure," he wept. Lonely. His master was lonely. And suddenly Sam felt his own loneliness. The long years of their separation crushed his chest like a huge stone.

"Why do you weep?" Ulmo asked him. "Soon thou wilt hear his voice again."

"I weep because I miss him so," Sam sighed. "I weep for all the years we have been apart. I weep because my master stands alone on the shore, with no one to fix his meal and make his bed all warm and snug.”

"Then go to thy home," Ulmo intoned. "There thy son waits to see thee safely on thy way. From this moment, the time of separation from thy master can be counted in days."

Sam nodded and sighed. "One moment," Sam said quietly. "I'll have words with these little ones before I leave them."

He stood and lifted his arms toward the field and flowerbeds that he had tended with such care. "Harken to me!" Sam cried. "I don’t leave you alone with none to care for you. My Frodo-lad has the same heart in his body as I do in mine. He has learned at my side, and his love of this land and for all of you is as deep as ever mine was and is. I leave him as 'Gardner of the Hill' and tell him to care well for you. And you may be sure he will do as I bid him."

Sam thought a moment, and chuckled softly. "And he has one thing I do not," he said. "He has schooled himself in the ways of growing things from books sent to him by the King's own gardener. He knows things that your old Sam could only guess at." He looked up and listened quietly, but the flowers were silent. Sam nodded.

"My old Gaffer, bless him and rest him, weren't much for readin’ and books either. 'Cabbages and potatoes are better for me and you,' he used to say, and right he was too. Cabbages and potatoes are fine things indeed." Sam stopped and thought for a moment. "But to my thinkin', Frodo-lad may grow even better cabbages and potatoes than I, because he has learned more about the doing of such things than his old dad.”

"And the first task I shall give him," Sam added quietly. "is to raise some of your young ones from this ground and cradle them in moist soil from the Earth. Your tiny seedlings and wee bulbs who haven’t even grown yet will come too."

Sam listened again, and this time he heard the flowers laughing excitedly, like the tinkling of a million tiny bells or the buzzing of a thousand friendly bees.

"Your children shall go beyond the great Sea and into the West," Sam told them. "They shall live long lives and see the coming of many of their children."

Once again Sam felt the ground under his feet tremble agreeably and Yavanna spoke. “Samwise, thou hast proven thyself full-wise once again. My children and I shall travel with you as my brother, Ulmo, carries you into the West.”

Sam bowed devotedly, then bent and lifted a handful of earth to his nose and inhaled its fragrance deeply. "My master once chided that I should become a wizard or a warrior, and I said to him that I wanted to be neither." He spread the earth into the bed of Galadrig that grew there, and dusted his hands. "I wanted only to be my master's gardener, and that is what I shall be.”

He looked into the distance for a moment. “And once I’m with him again, I’ll make him a garden with the slips I take from you that will make even the Valar cry with envy."

Sam began to walk up the hill toward Bag End. "And there my master and I will find the peace we have both wanted for so long." He turned and lifted his hand toward the field. "Farewell, me dear ones," he said softly. "And yet not farewell, for I shall see you in the West. In Frodo's garden." Sam stopped and thought a moment, then corrected himself. "In our garden."

He turned and walked up the hill.

\- end –  
 _Yavanna – Queen of the Earth - from The Silmarillion  
Ulmo – Lord of the Waters - from The Silmarillion_

 


End file.
